SLEDGE JOURNEY INTO INGLEFIELD GULF
The Start from Redcliffe—Our Team—Temporary Village on Northumberland
Island—A Crazy Woman—A Never-to-be-forgotten Night in a Native
Snow-igloo—From the Snow village to Keati—Across Whale Sound to
Netchiolumy—An Eskimo Metropolis—Aged Dames—From Netchiolumy to
Ittiblu—Midnight Glories—The Solitary Habitation at Ittiblu and its
Inhabitants—My Coldest Sleep in Greenland—Nauyahleah, the Ancient
Gossip—A Native Graveyard—From Ittiblu to the Head of Inglefield
Gulf—Meeting with a Traveling-party.
Monday, April 18. Having completed our arrangements for a week’s
exploration of Inglefield Gulf, we started from Redcliffe about noon
with the large dog-sledge, drawn by six dogs and driven by Kyo.
The day was very bright, and the sun shone warm all the time. The
traveling as far as Cape Cleveland was good, but then it began to grow
heavy, and before we had gone half-way across there were places where
the dogs sank in to their bellies and almost swam, while we sank down to
our knees in a semi-slush; the sledges, however, went along nicely.
Fortunately, there were only a few such places, and as we got near the
west end of Herbert Island the ice became smoother and harder, and the
dogs sped along, two of us riding at a time, and sometimes all three.
Our sledge reached the west end of Herbert Island at eight o’clock, and
two hours later, having crossed over to Northumberland Island, we came
upon a cantonment of four snow-igloos. These were occupied by families
from different settlements, who congregated here to be near a patch of
open water a short distance off, where they caught seal. The largest
snow-igloo was occupied by Tahtara, his wife, his father and mother, and
some small children. This was put at our disposal; another was occupied
by Ikwa and family, together with Kyoshu and his son, while Myah and his
wife were accommodated in a third. The mistress of the remaining igloo
was making an awful noise and trying to come out of her habitation,
while a man was holding her back and talking to her, but she screamed
and struggled so long as we remained where she could see us. I asked
Mané what was the nature of the trouble, and she told me that the woman
was pi-blocto (mad).
As the wind was blowing fiercely and the air was thick with drifting
snow, Mr. Peary urged me to come into the igloo, which I did, rather to
please him than to get out of the storm. Now as long as I have been in
this country I have never entered an Eskimo hut; hearing about the filth
and vermin was quite enough for me. But Mr. Peary said the snow-house
was much cleaner, etc., etc., and seeing that it really made him
uncomfortable to have me stay outside, I yielded. Can I ever describe
it? First I crawled through a hole and along a passage, about six feet,
on my hands and knees; this was level with the snow outside. Then I came
to a hole at the end of the passage and in the top of it, which seemed
hardly large enough for me to get my head through, and through which I
could see numberless legs. Mr. Peary called for me to come, so the legs
moved to one side and I wedged myself into the aperture and climbed into
a circular place about five feet high, the floor of which, all of snow,
was about two feet higher than that of the tunnel. A platform one and a
half feet above this floor, and perhaps four feet wide in the middle and
two and a half feet at the sides, ran all around the walls of the igloo,
except that part in which the aperture or door came up in the floor. The
middle of this platform for about five feet was the bed, and it was
covered with two or three tooktoo skins, which almost crawled away, they
were so very much alive. On this bed sat Tahtara’s mother,
tailor-fashion, with a child on her back; another woman, younger by far,
and rather pretty, his wife; and two children, about six and eight years
old; and on the edge, with his feet resting on a chunk of walrus, from
which some hungry ones helped themselves whenever they wanted to,
regardless of the fact that a number of feet had been wiped on it, and
that it was not only frozen solid but perfectly raw, sat Tahtara
himself, smiling and saying, “Yess, yess,” to everything that Mr. Peary
said to him. Mr. Peary had also taken a seat on the edge of this bed,
and the women immediately made room for me between them; but this was
more than I could submit to, so, excusing myself by saying that my
clothing was wet from the drifting snow and that I could not think of
getting their bedding wet, I sat down, not without a shiver, on the edge
beside Mr. Peary, selfishly keeping him between the half-naked women and
myself.
[Illustration:
THE INHABITANTS OF “SNOW VILLAGE,” NORTHUMBERLAND ISLAND.
]
The sides of this platform on either side of the doorway were devoted to
two ikkimers (stoves), one of which was tended by Tahtara’s mother and
the other by his wife. These stoves were very large and filled with
chunks of blubber; over each hung a pan, made of soapstone, containing
snow and water, and above these pans were racks or crates, fastened very
securely, on which the inmates flung their wet kamiks, stockings,
mittens, and birdskin shirts. The drippings of dirt, water, and insects
fell invariably into the drinking-water. I say “drinking-water”; they
have no water for any other purpose. Mr. Peary had put our Florence
oil-stove on the side platform and was heating water for our tea.
Fortunately our teapot had a cover on it, which I made my business to
keep closed.
Besides the persons mentioned there were always as many husky visitors
as could possibly pack in without standing on one another. These took
turns with those unable to get in, so that after one had been in a while
and gazed at the circus, he would lower himself through the trap and
make way for a successor among the many crouching in the passageway
behind him. This was kept up throughout the night. Of course the
addition of our stove, together with the visitors, brought the
temperature up rapidly, and to my dismay the Eskimo ladies belonging to
the house took off all of their clothing except their necklaces of
sinishaw, just as unconcernedly as though no one were present.
The odor of the place was indescribable. Our stove did not work properly
and gave forth a pungent smell of kerosene; the blubber in the other
stoves sizzled and sometimes smoked; and the huskies—well, suffice it to
say that was a decidedly unpleasant atmosphere in which I spent the
night.
I soon found that if I kept my feet on the floor they would freeze, and
the only way I could keep them off the floor was to draw up my knees and
rest the side of one foot on the edge of the platform and place the
other upon it. In this way, and leaning on my elbow, I sat from ten at
night until ten in the morning, dressed just as I was on the sledge. I
made the best of the situation, and pretended to Mr. Peary that it was
quite a lark.
Mr. Peary went out to look after the dogs several times during the
night, and each time reported that the wind was still blowing fiercely
and the snow drifting. In the morning the wind had subsided somewhat,
and after coffee the dogs were hitched, and we resumed our journey,
heading for Keati.
After traveling about an hour we came upon a single stone igloo, which
proved to be Nipzangwa’s; he and his father, old Kulutunah, immediately
came out to meet us. We reached Keati, the inhabitants of which had been
apprised in advance of our coming by special messenger, about noon, and
an hour later, reinforced with additional dogs, started across the Sound
for the settlement on Barden Bay (Netchiolumy). Ikwa followed with his
dogs and sledge. The traveling was fine, and the dogs took our sledge,
with all three of us riding, along at a trot all the way. We arrived at
our destination about six P. M., the odometer registering 14.4 miles
from Keati.
[Illustration:
Map of Whale Sound and Inglefield Gulf.
]
Here we found a great many natives, probably sixty, most of whom we had
already seen at Redcliffe during the winter. In addition to the regular
inhabitants of the place there were a half-dozen families from Cape York
and its vicinity, who were stopping in snow-igloos on their way home
from Redcliffe. The winter is their visiting time, and only during this
season do the inhabitants of one place see those of another; they travel
for miles and miles over the ice, some with dogs and some without, but
there is invariably at least one sledge with every party. This year the
travel has been unusually brisk, owing to the American settlement, which
all were anxious to visit. Where a family has a sledge and two or three
dogs, they load it with a piece of raw walrus or seal (enough to last
them from one village to the next), anything and everything that can be
scraped together for trade, one or two deerskins for bedding, and the
smallest child that has outgrown the mother’s hood. The rest of the
family then take turns in riding, one at a time, while two push the
sledge.
On our arrival at the igloos we were immediately surrounded by the
natives; two very old women in particular were led to me, and one of
them, putting her face close to mine—much closer than I
relished—scrutinized me carefully from head to foot, and then said
slowly, “Uwanga sukinuts amissuare, koona immartu ibly takoo nahme,”
which means, “I have lived a great many suns, but have never seen
anything like you.”
We had brought our things up to the igloos and intended to get our
supper on the hill, but the native odor, together with that of _passé_
pussy (seal) and awick (walrus) lying about, was too strong, and I
suggested that we return to the sledge. The two old women who first
greeted us, despite the fact that they could not walk alone, were
determined to accompany us, and they were helped down the hill to the
sledge. They looked as old and feeble as women at home do between eighty
and eighty-five. Never having seen such a sight, they could not let the
chance go by, even at the expense of their little strength. Not being
able to carry everything in one trip, I went back for the rest,
preferring this to staying with the sledge, where the natives were now
swarming, and wanting to handle everything they saw. When I came to the
igloos again, Annowee, a Cape York woman, who had lately been to
Redcliffe, began to beg me not to go down, but to have Mr. Peary come up
to her; she had “ah-ah” (pain) in her knees and could not possibly make
the descent. She wanted to see us as long as she could, as she would
never see our like again. All this time she was not only talking loudly,
but clutching at my arm whenever I turned to go, and when I said,
“Utchow, utchow, wanga tigalay” (just wait, I am coming back), she said,
“Peeuk,” but did not want me to take the things down for fear I should
not come back. The other women now closed about me, and all begged me to
stay. Mr. Peary, who remained with the sledge, was somewhat disturbed by
my position, but it was all done in kindly feeling. In spite of the fact
that Annowee “could not come down,” she was at the sledge almost as soon
as I was.
We took our supper, after which we bartered for tanned oogzook-sinishaw
(seal-thong), sealskins, bearskin trousers, and two dogs. Old Ahnahna
gave me a scolding for the benefit of her companions because I would not
give her a needle; she said Mr. Peary was “peudiochsoa” (very good) but
“Mittie” Peary was “peeuk nahme”—that I used to give her needles, but
now I would not do it, etc. While saying this she was laughing all the
time, and when I gave her a cup of tea and a cracker she changed her
opinion of me at once.
Mr. Peary walked to the Tyndall Glacier and took photos of it, and of
the village and the natives. Kyo then hitched up the dogs, we said
good-by all around, Ikwa included, and at eight o’clock left for
Ittiblu.
To show how sharp these semi-savages are, I may mention the following
incident: On the way from Keati to Netchiolumy we dropped at different
times three snow-shoes from our sledge, but seeing Ikwa behind us pick
them up, we did not stop for them. On reaching Netchiolumy he brought
them to us, and said they were fine for us, were they not? We said yes.
“Well,” he said, “if I had not picked them up you would not have them,
and as my eyes hurt me very much, and I see you have them to spare, you
should give me a pair of smoked glasses.” I thought so too, and he got
what he asked for.
We had the perfection of traveling. The surface of Whale Sound was just
rough enough to prevent it from being slippery, and yet so smooth that
the sledge went along as if it were running on a track.
Mr. Peary, Kyo, the driver, and myself were all three seated upon the
sledge, which in addition was heavily laden with our sleeping-bags,
equipment, provisions, etc., and yet the nine handsome creatures, picked
dogs of the tribe, who were pulling us, immediately broke into a run,
and, with tails waving like plumes over their backs, kept up a brisk
gait until we reached Ittiblu at two o’clock in the morning; the
odometer registered 21.94 miles. The night was a beautiful one. The sun
shone brightly until near midnight, when it went down like a ball of
fire, tinging the sky with crimson, purple, and yellow lights, which
gradually faded out and left a dull grayish blue, which in turn changed
to a gray just dark enough to show us the numberless stars that studded
the firmament. When we reached Ittiblu the sun came up from behind the
dark cliffs of the eastern shore of Inglefield Gulf. We had been
traveling sixteen hours, and were pretty well tired out. Our dogs, too,
were glad to have a meal and rest.
We immediately set to work to build a snow-igloo of our own, on the icy
floor of which we placed our sleeping-bags and everything that we did
not wish handled by the inhabitants of the settlement. While still at
work on this we were visited by two residents, Panikpah, a former
visitor at Redcliffe, and Koomenahpik, his father; they showed a true
native hospitality by asking us to share the comforts of their igloo—an
invitation, however, which we politely declined.
[Illustration:
Our Snow-igloo.
]
Our igloo proved icy cold, and I shall never forget the difference of
temperature between inside and outside. It was just like going from a
cellar into a temperature of 90°, and we resolved that unless it was
storming we would in future sleep without shelter. Among our breakfast
callers was the wife of Koomenahpik, Nauyahleah, the most comical old
soul I had yet seen. She evidently felt it her duty to entertain me, and
began to tell me all about herself and her family; she let me know that
I had already seen one of her sons at Redcliffe, whose name is Tawanah,
and who lives still farther up Inglefield Gulf; he had stopped at
Ittiblu, she said, on his return from the Peary igloo, and told her what
a large koona Peary’s koona was, and how white her skin was, and that
her hair was as long as she could stretch with her arms. She followed us
wherever we went, and chatted incessantly—whether we were taking
photographs or making observations for latitude and time, it made no
difference to her. If we did not answer her she would sing at the top of
her voice for a few minutes, and then chatter again. She showed us a
number of graves, which are nothing but mounds of stones piled on the
dead bodies, and told us who lay beneath the rocks.
At eight in the evening we left Ittiblu, with four additional dogs
obtained from Panikpah. All night long we dashed on over the smooth
surface of Whale Sound, except where we passed Academy Bay. Here from
one cape to the other the snow was soft and several inches deep. Again
the sun only left us for a short time, and in spite of a temperature of
–35°, the ride was a delightful one.
About two A. M. we were abreast of another beautiful glacier, a great
river of ice slowly making its way from the eternal inland ice to the
sea. The smooth and even appearance of all the glaciers, Mr. Peary told
me, was due to the blanket of snow which covered them.
It took us about an hour to pass the face of the ice-sheet, which in
places towered above us to a height of one hundred feet and more. As we
rounded the southwest corner Kyo sang out, “Inuits, Inuits,” and,
looking ahead, we saw an Eskimo snow-igloo built up against the rocks on
the shore. Scattered about on the ice-foot lay about a dozen seals, some
whole, and some partially cut up; three or four young white seals, a
number of sealskins, a large sledge and a small toy-sledge patterned
exactly like the large one, and coils of sealskin and walrus lines. In
the “tochsoo,” or entrance to the igloo, was tied a young dog, who had
no idea of awakening his master, for he only looked at us and gave no
sound.
In response to Kyo’s shouts a man came slowly crawling out, rubbing his
eyes, and showing every evidence of having been suddenly awakened out of
a sound sleep. This proved to be Kudlah, a young native whose home was
at the head of Inglefield Gulf, and who on a visit to Redcliffe during
the winter had been nicknamed by our boys “Misfortune.” Kudlah had a
hang-dog sort of expression. We were told that a woman would only live
with him a year and then leave him, it being the privilege of the Eskimo
maiden to return to her parents’ roof at the end of a year, provided
there is no family, if she finds that she has made a mistake.
“Misfortune” had grown very fond of the “kabloonah’s kapah” (white man’s
food), especially coffee and crackers, during his visit at Redcliffe,
and he now came right to our sledge and asked if we had no “kapah” for
him. He told us that he, with his wife, and Tawanah with his wife, a son
twelve years of age, and three smaller children, were on their way to
Redcliffe. They had left their home, Nunatochsoah, at the head of
Inglefield Gulf, two days before, and had walked all day and until
midnight, when they built the snow-house and camped. The women and
children being very tired, and seal-holes, whence young seals are
procured, being plentiful in this neighborhood, they decided to rest a
few days and hunt seal. I asked him where they found the pretty little
white creatures, and he told me that the mother seal crawls out on the
ice through the cracks and hollows out a place for herself under the
snow, not disturbing the surface at all, except perhaps by raising it a
little, and thus giving it the appearance of a snow-drift or mound. Here
she gives birth to her young, and stays with them until they are old
enough to take to the water, leaving them only long enough to get food
for herself.
To me these mounds did not seem different in appearance from the
ordinary snow-mound, but the trained eye of the native immediately
distinguishes the “pussy igloo” (seal-house); he walks softly up to it,
and puts his ear close to the snow and listens. If he hears any sign of
life he jumps on the mound as hard as he can, until it caves in, and
then, with a kick in the head, he dispatches the young one. Then he lies
in wait for the mother seal to return to her young, when she is promptly
harpooned.
[Illustration:
SLEDGING INTO INGLEFIELD GULF.
]
While Kudlah was entertaining us, Tawanah and the two women came out of
the igloo. The latter were very much interested in me, and wanted to
know if there were any more women like me at Redcliffe. When told that
there were not, but that they were plentiful in the American country,
they asked, “Are they all so tall, and so white, and have they all such
long hair? We never have seen women like you.”
Our driver had been refreshing himself with seal and blubber, and Mr.
Peary now called to him to untangle the dogs, as we wished to continue
our journey. This he did not like, and said the people were all gone,
and there was no use in going any farther up the gulf. The snow, he
said, was very deep, and the dogs would not be able to pull the load;
but Mr. Peary was firm in his decision to push on to the head of the
gulf, if possible, in order to complete his surveys. Accordingly, at
four A. M. we started again, and to our surprise Kudlah and Tawanah
accompanied us. When questioned as to their destination, Tawanah said
they had a lot of sealskins and young seals at Nanatochsuahmy which he
wanted to give Mr. Peary, and they were going as far as his igloo with
us.
In about three hours we came to a small island, and here we pitched
camp. After a hearty supper of Boston baked beans, corned beef, and
stewed tomatoes, with tea and crackers, we turned in, and what a
delightful sleep we had! The sun shone warm, and that peculiar stillness
which is found only in the Arctic regions was conducive to long sleep.
[Illustration:
Mount Daly.
]
After supper we explored the little island and found the plateau covered
with the tracks of deer and ptarmigan, but we could descry no living
creature. The view from the summit was very fine. We could see down the
sound as far as Herbert Island, and almost up to the head of Inglefield
Gulf; on the right the eye took in the greater part of Academy Bay, and
on the left in the distance towered Mts. Putnam, Daly, and Adams.
Arriving at Nunatochsoah, we spent about an hour in skirmishing about
the place, Tawanah taking us to various caches containing sealskins,
both tanned and untanned, and two caches containing young seals, about
twenty-two in all. Kudlah, too, had a few seals and skins, and both men
were anxious to barter their possessions with Mr. Peary for a knife and
a saw.